


Simeon's Café

by Adverb_Sluts_Archive (Adverb_Slut)



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adverb_Slut/pseuds/Adverb_Sluts_Archive
Summary: Simeon's café, Apocrypha, is heralded as one of the best in Devil's Point, and not just because of the amazing coffee and confections served there.  The coffeeshop owner may as well be an angel descended from heaven based on the way he's expertly able to soothe and nurture his patrons, offering them friendly advice as he takes upon the role as their most trusted confidante.(Basically just another Coffeeshop AU/Human AU borne from the deluge of info brought through ObeyMAX)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Luke

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the brothers' and side characters' occupations and the like will be drawn from the information presented during ObeyMAX, others will not (it just depends on how it fits in this story!).
> 
> **As always, feedback is appreciated!**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something feels off about Celestial Hill's resident ~~chihuahua~~ religious baby, and Simeon is determined to help.

**5:45 AM**

Simeon did _not_ want to admit how many tries it took for him to download the Yelp app on his phone (hint: it was seven). He _also_ refused to divulge how difficult it was for him to navigate the app and find the search bar (it may or may not have taken him twelve minutes). And there was _no_ way he was going to admit to the sheer volume of spelling errors he committed when trying to type “Apocrypha” in it (there were only nine letters in “Apocrypha” and he managed to skip or replace eight of them).

However, he was most definitely willing to disclose the fact that once he scrolled down to read the reviews, he was filled with the most humbling sense of _elation_.

 _“_ _★★★★★_

 _I go in there hungry, but_ always _come out full, even if all I’ve ordered is a scone.”_

_“★★★★★_

_Apocrypha has only been open here in Devil’s Point for a month now, but I feel like I’ve been enjoying the warm baked goods, amazing coffee, and amiable conversation there for years.”_

_“★★★★★_

_Best café in Devil’s Point by far”_

_“★★★★★_

_dunno where i’d be rn w.o simeon. he’s the man when it comes to talking thru stuff. Also he serves mad good tea here;”_

_“★★★★★_

_I heard the owner was from Celestial Hills and expected a pompous, overblown, religious zealot. It turns out Simeon is down-to-Earth as it gets and can bake any kind of confection with expertise. I highly recommend trying the Blueberry Buckle on days it’s served.”_

Something warm filled his heart as he thumbed through the rest of the comments. The reception to his café here in Devil’s Point had been even better than he had hoped, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to heaven for his success. 

He glanced at the clock—it was fifteen minutes until six. 

_Almost opening time._

He heard a _beep_ from the oven and hurried over to check his special for the day, piping hot blueberry bagels. The sizzling tray was carefully placed on the counter next to a pan of the beloved baked good that was served every day—cinnamon and plain scones.

Simeon breathed in the smell of flour and fruit as he turned behind him to check the coffee machine, as well as the boiling pot of water on the stove. When he saw that both were nowhere _close_ to ready, he stepped out from behind the counter and meandered into the main dining space of the café.

Apocrypha was decorated simply, with small, round tables and overstuffed chairs, where he now adjusted the various pillows that adorned them. Warm colors and accents filled the café, giving it a homey atmosphere that made customers feel cozy, especially on rainy days. He couldn’t help the odd Bible verse that decorated some of the surfaces—although he made sure the wording was as neutral but encouraging as possible, so no one would feel uncomfortable.

He walked toward the front windows of the café and flipped over the small chalkboard that hung on the rail. On it read “Special of the Day: Honey Muffins with Unsweetened Whipped Cream — $1.50 apiece,” which had been yesterday’s special. He dug out from his apron pocket a quarter piece of chalk and scribbled (his scribblings strangely looked like the most heavenly of calligraphy) “Special of the Day: Blueberry Bagels — $1.00 apiece / Ask for strawberry or regular cream cheese (free),” before walking back and stationing himself once again behind the counter.

Again, Simeon glanced at the clock, surprised that only five minutes had passed.

 _Ten minutes left_.

Before he could busy himself with another task, he noticed someone bobbing up toward the front door.

As the patron began knocking politely, Simeon’s eyebrows shot up. Was his clock slow? Was it already opening time? He couldn’t imagine someone in such a great need of coffee and confections that they’d try to enter his café _early_. 

He hurried toward the door and opened it, before smiling gently. He had been told many times that his beam had an immensely soothing effect on whoever had been gifted with its presence. “Hello, I’m sorry, but Apocrypha isn’t open yet. If you would be so kind as to wait ten m—oh! It’s you, Luke.”

The young child, a white cap covering his blond hair, nodded vigorously, and pointed to the massive SUV behind him, which Simeon instantly recognized as Pastor Mike’s car. 

Pastor Mike was one of the youth pastors at Simeon’s church back in Celestial Hills. He had adopted Luke several years ago when both of the then-four-year-old’s parents had died in an automobile accident.

“Sorry to bother you, Simeon! We’re here for the donuts!” chirped Luke.

Simeon nodded. He had forgotten that last Sunday he had promised that Pastor Mike could come in before opening hours to grab a box of a dozen donuts for one of his many trips to the homeless shelters in downtown Devil’s Point. “Come on in, Luke.” He walked behind the counter toward the fridge, where fifteen homemade donuts were carefully arranged on a tray and covered in plastic wrap. 

As he put on his gloves and began to place the donuts in a white to-go box, he looked up and beamed at Luke. “Is Pastor Mike driving you to school?”

“Yes! We decided to pick up our donuts on the way there!” said Luke.

“I see. And you go to hm, Celestial Hills Public Elementary, then?”

“Actually, I go to Trinity Private Academy. It’s a Christian school and close enough to the Devil’s Point border that Pastor Mike can drop me off easily after we pick up the donuts.”

Simeon bit his lips. He knew Luke quite well from church—had even been a substitute teacher for his Sunday School class five or six times—and knew that the child was _very_ zealous about his faith, even in a community as religious as Celestial Hills. Was it really wise to send such a child to a school of faith? He knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, but he wagered that it would do far more for Luke to send him to a public school, where he could drench himself in the opinion of other students and not become so wrapped up in his own worldview.

As he placed the last donut in the box, he couldn’t help but ask, “And how do you like Trinity Private?”

Luke blushed and his voice took on an indignant tone. “I—I love it, of course! It—it’s not like sometimes I feel like my head could explode from learning and reciting so many memory verses or anything!”

Simeon couldn’t help but pity the schoolboy, for it felt as if there was something he wasn’t saying. He knew better than to ask any more questions but to ease Luke’s burdens, he offered, “Back home in India, my church hosted many Bible Verse Recitation Competitions. I never won any, but I did manage to learn and quote over six hundred verses. Next Sunday at church I’ll teach you some of my secrets.”

“Would you really?” Luke gasped, his eyes lighting up.

“Of course!” He winked as he closed the box of donuts and gingerly handed them to Luke. “I know how Michael—er, Pastor Mike has a sweet tooth, so I purposely put a few extra donuts in there for you two to share.”

Luke took the box with a beam. “Thanks so much, Simeon!”

Simeon wiped tiny daubs of donut icing off his gloves and onto his apron. “Anytime!” 

He watched from inside the café as Luke loaded himself into Pastor Mike’s enormous SUV (which, he knew was to ferry kids to and from church and other events when their parents were unable to) and the pair rode off.

He sighed as he turned his eyes toward the clock _yet again_ , pleasantly surprised when he saw that it finally now was six o’clock. 

Simeon went to go flip over the sign that read “CLOSED” to the side that said “OPEN,” before rushing to situate himself behind the counter and stir in the coffee powder and tea leaves into their respective containers. 

The door swung open exactly at 6:01 AM, and he didn’t even have to turn around to see who it was.

The overworked, early-graying, and rather proud Mayor’s Assistant was always his first customer. 


	2. Lucifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simeon must talk the Assistant Mayor through his unending trauma regarding his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, none of the demon brothers will actually be related to each other in this story (not even the twins, I'm sorry). The only canon familial relations I'll be drawing on is the one between Lucifer and Lilith. 
> 
> **As always, feedback is always appreciated!**

**6:01 AM**

The truth was when Simeon first had laid eyes on Lucifer, he thought that he was the poor human main character in some kind of vampire romance novel, where Lucifer played the brooding vampire. 

It really wasn't a far-fetched idea, as the man had a tendency to wear all manner of black and red, with vests and high-collared capes—not to mention the fact that a slight accent underlined his words. Simeon once entertained the idea that the accent was Romanian because _what-if_ , but the more and more he listened to Lucifer’s voice, did he realize that he spoke with a tongue that was most likely accustomed to speaking Hebrew.

He realized that his hypothesis was correct when, a few months ago, he read in the _Devil’s Point Observer_ a rare interview with the man, who typically preferred to keep his private manners private. Simeon didn’t remember exactly what the paper had said, for he didn’t get the _Devil’s Point Observer_ back at home in Celestial Hills and he’d had to read bits and pieces of the article throughout the day from a lovely cafe-goer who’d let him borrow her copy. 

If he was remembering correctly, the story went that Lucifer had been born to a wealthy and prominent Israeli family. He’d never got along well with his father, but once his younger sister became gravely ill and his father refused to pay for her treatment due to the fact that he scorned her taste in suitors, he completely emancipated from his family and moved to America with his dying sister. 

Penniless, he somehow came into contact with Devil’s Point’s Mayor, Diavolo, who’d taken a liking to the handsome and talented man who spoke deftly despite his broken English and offered to pay for the entire treatment, provided that Lucifer granted his one request: Lucifer was to work in Devil’s Point City Hall with him as Assistant Mayor. Lucifer, who had originally been pursuing a degree in music, consented to the agreement for his sister’s sake and ever since, had been serving as Assistant Mayor in Devil’s Point.

Lucifer didn’t even bother with a greeting as he stood at the counter, sat on one of the stools situated there, and ordered, “Coffee. Black.”

“Good morning to you, too, Lucifer,” Simeon welcomed, nodding as he poured him a cup. As he scooted it toward the edge of the counter, he knew that it was time for the games to begin.

He never knew _why_ Lucifer associated plain, black coffee with “I AM COOL SEXY MAN RESPECT MY LACK OF TASTE BUDS” and “I AM TOUGH LET ME SLAKE MY MORNING THIRST WITH BITTER BEAN JUICE,” but for some reason, he did and always failed in the prospect because, despite his no-nonsense order, Simeon couldn’t help but notice something very strange about how Lucifer took his coffee.

He didn’t gravitate toward his cup when Simeon gestured toward it, and instead pulled out his phone, checked the time, and politely began, “And your day so far, Simeon?”

“Busy as usual. Even though I boiled today’s batch of bagels yesterday, it was still a bit of a hassle since this morning I had to run to Wal-Mart for some cream cheese while they were in the oven. Next time I’ll plan better. Lucky for me, the scones were well-behaved, as usual.” Speaking of scones, he realized that he had forgotten to set aside four of them for another customer, who would come later in the day and was perpetually famished. 

As he began to place the four extra scones in a napkin, Simeon bobbed his head toward Lucifer and asked, “And you, Luci?”

Lucifer blushed at the nickname, but didn’t complain as he replied, “You know how it is.”

Simeon nodded, trying to be discreet as possible as he slid over a sugar bowl and mixed a spoonful of sugar into Lucifer’s coffee. However, as underhandedness was not one of his strong suits, Lucifer’s eyes shifted over to what he was doing, although he pretended not to notice, despite this being a regular charade that the two mustered through.

Still, Lucifer did not make a move toward his coffee.

“I assume working under Diavolo is still an … ‘adventure,’ as you said?” 

Lucifer smiled delicately. “Of course.” His eyes darkened when he said, “Although I dread the amount of filing and paperwork I have to do when I finally get to City Hall. I don’t think I’ll be able to return home until late at night, again.”

Simeon took another heaping teaspoon of sugar and quietly stirred it into Lucifer’s cup as he mused, “Perhaps you should take upon a career that puts that music degree of yours to use if that’s your true passion.”

Then and _only_ then did Lucifer finally slide his cup of coffee over to him. He took a satisfied sip before turning to Simeon and saying, with a small smile on his lips, “I find it funny how you’re able to remember that I possess a music degree, but always forget that I ordered _black_ coffee.”

The angelic barista laughed. “Silly me—I promise I’ll get it right next time.” He turned somber as he propped his head under his hands and asked, his voice gravely serious, “And how is Lilith?”

Despite the fact that Lucifer’s sister’s treatments had gone successfully, she was permanently debilitated due to how severely they had weakened her immune system.

He noticed that something sorrowful flashed through Lucifer’s eyes before he blinked it away and replied in a stilted voice, “She’s fine.”

Simeon took a sharp intake of breath when he noticed the worried crease between Lucifer’s brows when he said those words. He didn’t know if it was his place to pry, but seeing the suave man sit there as if someone had drained every iota of life out of him caused something in his heart to splinter. Gently, he placed a hand over Lucifer’s and whispered in the kindest voice he could manage, “Would you mind telling me the truth this time? _How is Lilith_?”

Lucifer didn’t answer for a long time, and Simeon wondered if he had been too forward. But just as he was about to draw his hand away, Lucifer clutched it tighter and stared at the countertop as if it displayed the mysteries of the universe. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

For a second, Simeon was _immensely confused_ —did something about the cafe make him uncomfortable? Was his chair understuffed? Did he finally decide that he actually liked black coffee and hated that Simeon had put sugar in it _despite the fact that he normally never drank his coffee unless it was sweetened_? 

He could feel his face pale when he realized what he meant. “Don’t say that—if you hadn’t immigrated here, you’d never have gotten your sister the help she needed or been able to escape your father’s tyranny.” His stomach flipped when he once again mulled over Lucifer’s words. _“We shouldn’t have come here.”_ Something truly must have broken this man for him to fumble over his pride and wish that he had never left his homeland.

Lucifer’s fingers shook under Simeon’s as he muttered, “What good is the help we’ve received here if her current common cold has already guaranteed her demise? If we hadn’t left Israel, Lilith would be dying in her homeland, surrounded by luxuries rather than in our hovel here that we call the House of Lamentation.” His voice quieted to the point where Simeon wasn’t sure if he was just imagining things with his next words. “And I wouldn’t kill myself every day to please a man I’m indebted to.”

Simeon gulped. “Lucifer, listen to me, please. Actually—listen to _yourself_. You _despise_ your father, and yet, you’re wondering if it was better had you stayed with him. Would you rather be indebted to your father, living life under his whip, or would you rather be indebted to Mayor Diavolo, who asks nothing of you but to do your job?”

Lucifer let go of Simeon’s hand and tore both of his through his hair, rumpling the immaculately combed tresses. His eyes widened and Simeon could see every drop of pride and self-preservation drain out of them as he whispered hoarsely, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it _doesn’t matter,_ because in either scenario, no matter who I’m willing to suffer, Lilith is _dead._ At least … she could have died in a home with all the fine things she _deserves._ ”

Simeon waited until Lucifer met his eyes, which were still wide with grief. “Does it really matter where she dies if she has her loving older brother by her side during her last moments?”

Lucifer stumbled back in his chair as if he had been shot. “I wouldn—I couldn—I never thought of it that way.”

“I’m sure Lilith appreciates the fact that you’re with her, more than she does sleeping under silken covers.” He pushed the cup of coffee toward Lucifer, who grabbed the handle and leaped out of his seat.

“You’re right, Simeon. You’re absolutely right.” Seemingly back to his old self, he dropped the exact amount of money for his order, and gave the barista a small smile, gesturing his cup toward him “My oversweet coffee and I will be canceling all our meetings and telling Lord Diavolo that we’ll be taking some PTO for the next few days to spend some more time with Lilith.” He pocketed his phone, and cup in hand, headed toward the door. Before he could leave though, he turned toward Simeon, his eyes a little misty, and said, “I thank you, Simeon—more than you know.”

With that, he was gone.

And of course, it was then, that Simeon realized that the Assistant Mayor had marched off with his cup, which was technically Apocrypha property. “Boo, and it was my favorite one, too,” he pouted, as he carefully arranged the change in the cash register. 

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 6:09 AM and almost time for the rest of the breakfast rush to arrive.

However, before he could situate himself behind the counter to take orders, he put another pot of boiling water on the stove. His next regular had a nasty habit of spending his money willy-nilly and subsisted mostly on a breakfast of cup noodles and hot sauce packets that he pilfered from the nextdoor Taco Bell. A day never went by when he didn’t ask Simeon for a cup of scalding water to add to his instant ramen.

Perhaps today Simeon would finally get him to break the habit.


End file.
